


an apology is in order

by orphan_account



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-27
Updated: 2014-08-27
Packaged: 2018-02-15 00:00:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2207937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leo Fitz didn't like apologies, hated them in fact. It meant admitting he was wrong. And when it came to Jemma Simmons, he was able to admit being wrong five times.</p>
            </blockquote>





	an apology is in order

**Author's Note:**

> So this is the first fanfic I'm posting on here and the first one to clock in at over a thousand words. So *clap*. I had three other fics I need to finish (including that one celebrities au and teen wolf au I talked about on tumblr), but instead I ended up writing this in a day. Sorry for any OOC-ness at any point, as this is my first time trying to write something like this and I hope you enjoy.

Leo Fitz wasn’t the kind of person for apologies. Apology meant admitting you were wrong, and he hated being wrong.

His best friend understood this. How, he never knew.

Every time he messed up, he said something wrong, she’d look at him and say “Oh Fitz” and he’d give her a look that would say “I’m sorry”.

He only ever said those two words out loud to her five times.

_i._

“Please call me back,” Jemma said after the beep. It was the third message she’d left for him that day.

Thirty one days ago, he left the academy to care for this mother, who had fallen ill. He said he’d only be gone for a month.

She started expecting him back at the twenty eight day mark. Three days past and now after the thirty one days, he still hadn’t come back.

She should have been able to wait longer. She’d only known him for what, a year? She had lived her entire life without him and now she was counting the minutes until he returned.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door of her dorm room. She got up from her bed and opened it to reveal him. Standing there with a stupid smile on his face, arms open.

“You had me so worried.” She said, trying to sound angry, but that didn’t stop her from coming into his arms and wrapping hers around his body.

“I’m sorry.”

_ii._

They never fought. When they did, they slammed doors and yelled so loud the neighbors yelled back.

“Come on Fitz, it’ll be an adventure!” She begged.

“We didn’t even pass our field exams!” He shouted. “What makes you think we can do this?”

“We’re Fitzsimmons, we can do anything.” She said.

“Oh please, not that again.”

“Not what?”

“Making it sound like we’re some superhero when we’re not.”

“Oh, Fitz.”

“Don’t you ‘oh, Fitz’ me. I’m still mad at you.”

“Don’t you see how great this could be? Seeing the world _together_?”

“Well you can do it alone.”

He walked out of the apartment, slamming the door. She didn’t know where he was planning on staying for the night. Frankly, she didn’t want to care. For the next few days, when they saw each other the in lab, they hardly spoke. They only asked each other to had them tools, like they weren’t friends but colleagues. She was still angry, and he was still stubborn.

On the seventh day, he came back to the apartment.

“I’m sorry, about everything. I’ll come with you.”

_iii._

He didn’t want to believe it. She couldn’t be dead. But here she was. Her limp, lifeless body in Ward’s arms, her head resting against his shoulder like she was sleeping.

He wished she was sleeping. He wished she didn’t jump out of the plane. That she had just waited ten seconds and they’d have the antiserum just fine and Ward wouldn’t have to jump out and carry her from the ocean back.

She was set down in her bunk after deliberation on where to put a dead body. Fitz watched as every team member came in and out of the bunk. Each coming and going in tears, even May and Ward.

He was the last one to see her.

She looked so peaceful, lying there. Dead. She reminded him of Snow White. He wished he could be that prince and wake her up with a kiss and they’d have a happily ever after.

But, all he did was kneel by her side, grab her hand and talk to her even if she wasn’t listening.

“I’m sorry, Jemma. I’m so sorry.”

_iv._

He was more cautious than ever. On any mission, he was the one that always made sure everything went according to plan, that no one went off and did their own stuff.

He tried to keep everyone safe because he couldn’t keep her.

Apparently, he couldn’t keep her things either.

He stood on that plane, now overrun with Hydra as they moved all her personal items, all his, all the team’s off. He was alone. At least, that was part of the plan.

Skye, May, Coulson, their new scientist who he could never remember the name of, and that specialist from Garrett’s team he never learned the name of, were on their way. They were at the airfield, ready to come back and take what was theirs when he sent the signal.

He had to sit and stare as Hydra threw her clothes, her books, her favorite mug down like they were nothing. And how his old friend was just watching them do it.

“Why are you doing this Ward?” he asked, desperation permeating every word. “You were our friend.”

The traitor looked away from him as another Hydra threw her collection of Doctor Who DVDs out of the plane, onto the ground.

“I’m so sorry, Simmons.” He said, even though he knew no one was listening. He didn’t even know what he was apologizing for.

Maybe the fact that he just let them throw her stuff away because of the plan. Maybe because nothing went according to plan that day and now she’s dead and not here to remind him that everything was going to be okay.

He pressed the button, sending out the signal.

_v._

He stared at a picture of him and Simmons as he fixed his tie. They were smiling and happy and alive.

“Does this look good?” he asked the picture, as if it would reply.

She always fixed his ties for him. It wasn’t that he couldn’t do it, it was just that she did it better.

He sat down in his chair, and stared at the picture.

“I’m going on a date tonight. Skye set me up. She says I need to get out more, that it’s been six years. But it feels like it was just yesterday. She’s a nice girl. You would have liked her. I like her. Not like you though. You were always more than that. I just didn’t realize it until you passed. It’s just a date, okay? I’m sorry.”

He didn’t know whether those last words he said were for him or for the girl that died so many years ago.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang. As he got up to answer it and begin his date, he could have sworn he heard an “it’s okay”.


End file.
